


duck, duck, golden goose

by TheAzureFox



Series: Of Wishes and War [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Gen, bribing people with tea and murder, inspired by one of Claude's Japanese quotes, pre-relationship status but still kind of shippy if you squint, slight fairytale motifs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 14:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19747843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAzureFox/pseuds/TheAzureFox
Summary: In which Byleth is running away from making a decision and Claude is enticing her into one.Or: Byleth is unpredictable and nothing goes like Claude plans.





	duck, duck, golden goose

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of my Doom Desire series but can be read as a stand-alone. This whole story is a prequel to that fanfic and merely acts as background on why Byleth chose Claude.
> 
> Alternatively: this fanfic is a more dramatized take on how the protagonist is forced into choosing a house. Complete with all three house leaders being kind of shady people and Byleth being kind of paranoid :P
> 
> Edit: fixed some typos that my 12 am self didn't catch

* * *

Climbing up the steps of an abandoned building all alone probably wasn’t one of Byleth’s finest moments in life.

To be fair, Byleth’s whole day so far was like that. She’d been stumbling and bumbling and making a fool of herself, acting like a pitiful child too scared of the world to function.

Which isn’t _her_ fault. She never _chose_ to be made a spectacle, never _chose_ to be put on a pedestal and tossed to the hounds on someone’s cruel _whim_. She was talented with a sword, sure, and she had a mind fit for battle plans, _okay_ , but that didn’t mean she had to be chased around like a mother duck for 24/7.

Groaning to herself, she slogs up her way up steps made from stone, dust and cobwebs, dragging herself up until she reaches the very top. There, she sees the world from the view inside a bell tower, standing tall above square-shaped buildings and trees groomed into shape.

Byleth passes by a bell made of silver, pausing only to glance at its hugeness once before taking note of a pile of hay tucked into a corner. She tenses, searching the bell tower for any sign of its owner. Her hands automatically go to the iron sword attached to her hip, ready to draw it if necessary, when she finds herself alone and without company after pausing for minutes in alarm. Sighing in relief, she slumps into the nest of golden straws and takes it for herself.

“I can’t do this,” she mutters, nestling into the comfort of the hay. “I don’t _want_ to do this.”

“This” being the proposition her father had forced upon her. After saving three rulers-to-be from being wrecked by some murderous weirdo with an axe, she’d been offered a chance to teach at the notorious Garreg Mach Monastery. The woman who had delivered such an offering to her – one Lady Catherine, Knight of Seiros and right-hand soldier of Rhea herself – had done so with the notion that being allowed to teach at the monastery was a fine form of repayment.

Personally, Byleth would’ve accepted literally anything else. Hell, she’d have taken one measly bag of gold if that was what it meant to dissuade their absurd decision. However, her father had obviously thought otherwise. Even as Byleth had moved to decline the strange request for reimbursement, her father had accepted.

And, as her father’s word overruled her own (thanks dad), she’d been shipped into the grounds of the monastery without a second word.

Which, she supposed, she was fine with. She didn’t want to be a teacher and it would most definitely show. Her teachings would drag down her students and, as a result, the monastery would try and fire her for such poor results. She was okay with that scenario because it meant she could get _out_.

However, what she was _not_ okay with was the fact that she has three future rulers vying for her attention like little ducklings quacking for their mother’s gaze.

Byleth was not a social person, not at all. Years on the battlefield had taught her words meant less than actions and, even more, that chatting with her peers was a frivolous waste of time that could be better spent elsewhere.

Regardless: the duckings. Ah yes, those ducklings. Those silly children who dress themselves in red and blue and gold and then cling to her side like puppies. Byleth doesn’t know what to think of those three teens her age, of their eyes wide with stars and their smiles bright on their faces, but she does know this:

They are conniving individuals and they will bring doom upon her if she denies them their wants and wishes

It had been only two days since she’d stepped inside the grounds of the Garreg Mach Monastery. Yet, somehow, the teens whose lives she saved were still clinging to her like ducklings to their mother.

Edelgard, Claude, and Dimitri – the names of those three teens – had fastened their eyes upon her the moment she’d saved them from becoming bandit roadkill. Every moment she spent in the monastery did not go by without their following at her heels.

It wasn’t a bad thing, per say. Having the future leaders of Fodlan fawning for her attention was surely an accomplishment worth bragging about. And it was cute, too, to see those students do anything they could to incite wonder in her eyes.

However, beneath their shiny-eyed smiling faces, was undoubtedly a head full of thoughts that spooked Byleth. She knew why the three future leaders were after her: that they only wanted her so she could add to their ranks. She’d seen first-hand how competitive the three leaders were, especially after a three-way invitation to tea ended up in a…food fight (yeah she _wished_ she was joking).

Byleth knew she was powerful, that her skills as a mercenary were as legendary as the Knights of Seiros, but apparently the impression she had made was so great that now she was _coveted_ because of it. The house leaders were sure to make her aware of that: with Edelgard praising her ceaselessly, Dimitri complimenting her weapon skills, and Claude noting the intelligence of her strategies in battle.

It was flattering, but it was also very frightening to Byleth. Having all three of them push and shove each other for her attention was one thing: risking the consequence of choosing one over the other two had her biting at her nails. They were the _future leaders_ of huge armies, after all. And, if she refused any one of them, who was to say that they wouldn’t turn those armies on _her_ if they happened to throw a tantrum?

Such irrational thoughts plague her mind. She’s no stranger to paranoia, to apprehension towards strange dreams and even stranger circumstances. She had to be that way to survive as a wandering mercenary, after all. Life in the wild required diligence and ceaseless caution: if she had none of those things, if her irrational thoughts didn’t keep her on edge, then she would easily be left a sheep waiting for slaughter.

Byleth is not dumb. Despite the way Edelgard praises her and Dimitri laughs with her and Claude jokes with her, Byleth isn’t foolish enough not to see their real intentions. As teenager-like as they appear, partaking in petty squabbling and jubilant twittering, they are still allies of the political spectrum. 

Doubtlessly, they’ve taken an interest in her to further their own careers. As young as she is, they likely see the her who saved them on the battlefield: that (falsely) confident mercenary who had bared her sword to read the enemy and save the day. Granted, she’d died once in the process of doing so (not that anyone who wasn’t named Sothis would know about) but, to them, they probably saw nothing more than a powerful mercenary whose skills could benefit them greatly.

In other words: Byleth knows the name of the game being played. Even as she allows herself to be shadowed by those three lords, even as she allows their flattery and playful mischief, she knows better than to treat them with any form of comfort. Comfort, after all, was a privilege reserved for the company of those Byleth felt safe with.

And Byleth, for all her strength and wisdom, did _not_ feel safe with any of the three lords she’d met. 

* * *

It starts with Edelgard, a room full of exotic tea, and Byleth sitting awkwardly at a table set for two in the middle of a rose garden.

“You don’t have to be so uncomfortable,” Edelgard of the past says, chin propped upon intertwining hands as she welcomes Byleth with a smile. “I’ve prepared this tea especially for you.”

The tea in question being a cup of white tea. A luxury item to all but nobles, white tea was the finest blend of tea one could afford in the land of Fodlan. To think that Edelgard is letting her partake in a cup of such an expensive good…well, Byleth is more than paranoid that something’s afoul.

Still, one cannot forget gratitude in the presence of royalty. 

“Thank you, Edelgard. I appreciate it.” Byleth says to the girl, taking a sip and delighting herself in its refined taste. “It’s sure delicious.”

“Isn’t it?” Edelgard smiles. It’s an innocent smile, one kind and polite, yet somehow it manages to send a shudder down Byleth’s spine. “This is my favorite kind of tea. I have it every day and whenever I want. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Uh…I suppose so?”

The girl sips from her cup, confidence in her every movement. Byleth follows her lead, taking a drink from her own teacup and reveling in the taste. She could enjoy it forever, truth be told. The liquid was so fine on her tastebuds, so perfect and dazzling that her mouth watered for more and more of it: so much so that she had drained her cup in an unconscious daze.

“Well.” Edelgard says. “I see you’re in need of more tea.” 

“I would love more tea,” Byleth admits, enjoying the last of the beverage on the tip of her tongue. “It’s quite enjoyable.”

The girl smiles a pretty smile, holding Byleth’s gaze as she reaches into her lap and procures a pretty box wrapped in red and black. On it, the words _White Tea Productions_ are written, manifested in bold white letters that easily catch the wandering eye. 

Byleth watches her with a sudden gulp, alarm pricking at her as the box is placed coyly in front of the girl.

“You know,” Edelgard says, “if you join my house, you can have all the white tea you want.”

Ah. 

There it is. 

The proposition.

In all fairness, Byleth probably should’ve seen this coming.

The girl takes in a deep breath and lets it out. Then, she comes to a stand, ignoring the package entirely as she gives a bow and takess few steps back.

“I should be going now. I have an appointment…elsewhere.”

“Oh?” Edelgard watches her with purple eyes, that pretty smile of hers growing into something sharp and conniving. “And where do you have to go? What could possibly be more important than spending time with the _future leader of the Adrestian Empire?_ ”

The white-haired girl says it like a joke. But, Byleth knows better. A dangerous coldness has begun to waft of her, chilling and murderous in its intent as Byleth feels herself back into a corner.

“Well, um, you see…I’m with…”

“With who?”

Byleth flusters, wallowing for a name she can use. However, her mind runs blank, forcing her to cower back until a hand hits her shoulder. 

“She’s with _me_.”

A voice comes to her rescue. And, immediately, Byleth is relieved.

…Then she sees who it is, and all thoughts of professing gratitude to her savior are stopped dead in their tracks.

Prince Dimitri of the Holy Kingdom of Faergus stares down at her, his smile as radiant as Edelgard’s as he escorts her up and away. From behind her, Byleth can feel Edelgard’s stare linger on her back. It’s the kind of stare that sends shudders down her spine and, clearly, Dimitri can feel it too. He grips his hand tighter around hers, his face stiff as he leads Byleth away.

* * *

It continues with Dimitri.

After rescuing her from the clutches of Edelgard, the boy ends up taking her to the training grounds. Already a group of students are gathered, each turning to look at Dimitri as he arrives with reverence.

In other words, the members of the Blue Lions.

Byleth greets them all with a nod, noticing the sweat on their skin and the lack of breath in their postures as they pause in battle. The group greets the two with nods of their heads before continuing on, each member professing their undying hatred to each other as they spar.

“Hard at work as always,” Dimitri hums, fetching two lances from a nearby weapons rack. “Say, are you up for a duel?”

He words it like a challenge. Luckily for him, Byleth doesn’t mind a challenge. Dimitri grins at her as she readies herself, tossing one of his two lances in her direction. She catches it with ease, readying it before her as Dimitri charges.

She parries and he laughs, hopping away with an arm held behind his back. She rolls her eyes at his display, the thrill of battle over-taking her as she charges. Dimitri blocks her blow but underestimates her strength. He falters, allowing her to try and maneuver his weapon from him. 

However, Dimitri is clever. He shifts his weight, releasing his spear from his grip to let her tumble forward. In those spare seconds, he twirls around, retrieving his weapon and spinning around to face her. But, she’s not one to give up so easily, her eyes scanning the battlefield as she dances away from Dimitri’s blows. 

As she does so, Byleth passes by a blonde-haired girl whose mere presence might award her the advantage she needs.

Ingrid of the Blue Lions glances at her, a lance resting in her hands as she stands on the sidelines. Byleth acts on instinct, acting to pluck the lance from Ingrid’s grip.

It pries easily from the blonde girl’s fingers, allowing Byleth to retrieve it for her own use as she offers Ingrid an apologetic wave.

“Playing dirty?” Dimitri asks, jumping forward to pass on a blow that Byleth blocks.

“In battle, you must use anything you can to survive against your enemies,” the girl responds, shrugging off his attack and sending him on the defensive with a barrage of blows. “That includes, of course, picking up the weapons of those no longer using them.”

Nearby, Byleth hears Ingrid shout: “Well, _actually_ -” but her voice is lost to the noise of footsteps beating across hardened earth.

“You’re rather good at making the situation fall in your favor,” Dimitri says with a snort, fending off Byleth’s attacks and pushing her back. “That’s cute.”

“I prefer the term _amazing_.” 

She blocks a blow, dodges another, and then aims her lance in his direction. He deflects it and she’s left to huff at his stubborn refusal to be taken down. The two circle each other, lances in hand. Byleth wipes at her chin, eyeing his posture, and then steps forward. Dimitri moves to block her, readying his lance to cover his chest, when Byleth dives forward to sweep his legs from under him. The prince topples and, quick to take her win, she points her weapon at him and huffs.

“Your loss.”

Dimitri holds up his hands, laughing as he does so. “That it is.” 

He stands to his legs, wobbling slightly, and Byleth notices with surprise that he is panting quite hard. _He’s more out of shape than I thought_ , she realizes with a start. 

“As expected,” Dimitri says, wiping at his mouth. He spins the lance in his hands to casually point near her throat as he offers her an amiable grin. “You’re quite good. It would honestly be a waste if you shared those skills with the likes of archers and mages. You should come and teach my house, Milady. We’d be more than happy to take you under our wing. What do you say?”

Byleth eyes the lance pointing at her throat and tries to imitate his grin with a step away from the weapon. However, Dimitri swings his lance in time to her movement, smiling all the while as he does so.

However, before the uncomfortable silence between them can dwindle any longer, a hand bats away the lance from Byleth’s throat and it’s owner makes itself known.

“Now, now,” speaks a voice all too familiar, “you mustn’t push our dear teacher into joining your house. It’s her decision, after all!”

Byleth’s heart sinks as she sees Claude, the last of the three lords she has to worry about, come to her aid. The dark-skinned boy appears like a cat, slinking his way forward as he gives an exaggerated bow to Dimitri and the Blue Lions present. The boy smirks at them as they bristle, visibly beaming at Dimitri’s narrowed eyes.

Claude looks over at her, his easy-going smile giving her some semblance of comfort as he grabs her hand and holds it tight. “Come on,” he says, voice light and airy, “if you don’t want to answer him straight away, then you better come with me. Otherwise, that pushy prince over there will throw a tantrum until you give him an answer.”

“You make me sound like a child,” Dimitri remarks flatly.

“Because you are one.” Claude says in a singsong voice. Then, he turns to Byleth and grins. “Come along now, teacher, we’re going to have _so much_ _fun_ with each other.”

The boy pulls her along without a chance for her to protest. As they exit the training grounds, Byleth looks back to glance at Dimitri. The boy glowers in return, cupping his hands around his mouth as he says: “Remember, my house has sword fights!”

To which Claude responds with a voice full of arrogance: “And my house has the best lord!” He turns to Byleth. “Right?”

Byleth’s heart sinks to the point she’s unable to answer him. 

Out of one snake pit and straight into another, she supposes.

* * *

It ends with Claude.

The boy brings her to a courtyard filled with archery targets, depositing her beside a rack full of bows. He urges her to take one, picking up his own bow and holding it before him.

“To get your mind off things,” Claude says, grabbing a quiver full of arrows next, “you should be able to sit back and have a little fun.”

He says it like it’s that easy, like he isn’t one of the three lords who’s been chasing her around all day and hinting for her hand in teachership. Granted, he had yet to bribe her with tea or murder but, honestly, she was beginning to feel like she could never be too careful.

Still, she picks up a bow and grabs a quiver full of arrows, slinging it over her shoulder. Claude nods in approval, ushering her over to the archery range and nocking an arrow. 

“You should go first,” he says, waiting for her to nock an arrow of her own before continuing. “I want to see how good you are, teacher.”

She nods, holding up her bow and drawing back the arrow. Her gaze meets the center dot of the target set before her, steadying her hands as she breathes. 

Focusing herself, Byleth tries to remember how it’s like to pluck a bowstring, to hold an arrow in her hands and let it loose in the wind. 

It’s been weeks since she’s last had to use a bow. Back before she saved three kids her own age from bandits, she’d clung to the sword more than she had the bow. Swords were quick and easy to wield: bows were cumbersome and tedious to use. Byleth had held a grudge towards bows for as long as she could remember, thinking their use limited to long-range fights. 

That had never stopped her father from forcing her to learn it, however. 

_Breathe_ …

Byleth squints at her target, fingers positioning everything into place. Dimly, she’s aware of Claude’s awaiting gaze settling upon her. Dimly, she’s aware of the sound of wind brushing past her and the distant murmur of students coming from afar. She focuses, focuses, _focuses,_ holding her arrow into place, readying it before letting it _loose_.

The missile hits the bull’s eye and Byleth is left standing in pride of her accomplishment.

“ _Wow_ ,” Claude whistles. “You’re a good shot.”

“Thanks,” she says, “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“No kidding,” Claude holds up his bow and aims for his own target. He pulls back the bowstring, closing one eye in the process, but Byleth can already tell he isn’t going to make it.

 _Ping!_ The arrow is let loose but it wobbles in the air and falls at the foot of the target. Claude looks at it in dismay, setting another arrow into place and trying again.

 _Ping!_ His second arrow goes too fast and it misses the target entirely. Instead, it hits the wall of the building behind it. 

_Ping!_ Claude tries again. His arrow falls to his feet, sharpened head plunging into the soft ground as if to protest his aim.

Byleth can’t hold back her amusement at the last one, covering her mouth to try and stifle the mirth leaking from her lips. She fails, however, earning her an irritated look from Claude as he plucks the arrow from the ground and dusts it off.

“I’m not usually a bad shot,” he says in some form of dramatic protest. However, when she continues giggling, he puts his hands on his hips and glowers at her. “You don’t have to laugh at me.”

“S-Sorry,” she says, wiping at her eyes. “I just…usually people don’t mess up _that_ badly.”

“I’ll get it this time, just wait.”

“Let’s see it, Mister Archer.”

Claude huffs, nocking another arrow and letting it go. It hits the edge of the practice target, earning the boy a lazy smile as he looks over at her and says: “Well, looks like I finally hit it.”

“Looks like you did. Good job.”

The boy hums in return. He seems to contemplate something, gaze flicking between her and her target, before he turns his gaze to hers and offers up a sheepish smile. “Say, mind if we switch archery targets?”

She blinks at him. “Why?”

“I want to see if I can beat you,” the boy says, readying another arrow. “I want to hit a bull’s eye too.”

The girl raises an eyebrow at him, unconvinced but nodding. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have you try it.”

“Thanks, teacher.”

She obliges his request, switching places with him. The boy settles himself into position, drawing his arrow. He squints, readying himself, and Byleth notices with surprise that his posture is proper this time around.

Claude purses his lips, whistles, and then lets his arrow go.

It hits Byleth’s arrow, splitting it down the middle.

She _gapes_ at him.

“A fluke,” he says, drawing another arrow and aiming yet again.

He shoots, and it cracks his own arrow directly down the middle. 

“Another fluke,” Claude says, shrugging as if hitting a bull’s eye twice in a row is a flimsy accomplishment.

Yet, Byleth watches with horrorified amazement as Claude nocks three arrows in rapid succession, firing them one after the other and hitting the bull’s eye each time. He does so with such grace and prowess that Byleth finds herself staring, the bumbling version of Claude now replaced with that of an expert.

In a moment of sudden suspicion, Byleth realizes that she’s been taken for a fool. She flushes, uncertain how she could be so easily tricked, when Claude shows her a lazy smile and all her annoyance gives way to sudden fear.

“You know,” the boy says, nocking an arrow for the nth time and holding her gaze, “with your skills, I’m sure the Golden Deer would be in good hands. You’d be in for a good time, too. We really do take care of our own.”

She swallows.

He seems to notice her discomfort, letting his bowstring loosen up as he frowns. “Come on, relax. We’re having fun here aren’t we?”

Byleth finds her words caught in her throat. It takes her a moment to clear the paranoia from her mind and offer a response. “I-I suppose.”

“Hmm.” Claude plucks the bowstring, pulls it back, and fires at the target he’d left in her care. It hits the bull’s eye without question dead and center. “Well, you must have a lot on your mind right now. Between having tea with a future empress and holding a fight with the future king, shooting bows and arrows with a lordling of merchants must not seem very ideal.”

The girl pales. _Had he been…?_

“Watching you?” Claude finishes her thoughts, letting his bow fall to his side as he looks over her. “I keep close tabs on people of interest, if you must know.”

She pales to the point that she’s sure she must look like a ghost. Claude snorts at this, his cheery attitude replaced with something arrogantly condescending as he jumps forward. He goes to retrieve the arrows still left in-tact by his earlier antics, humoring Byleth’s fear as he cherry picks his way into a position of subtle dominance.

“You don’t have to think anything of my offer now. Unlike those two, I have no need to press you into making a choice.” Claude collects his arrows back into his quiver. When he sees her standing there, staring at him, he clicks his tongue. “Hurry along now,” the boy says, a thread of irritation in his otherwise pleasant voice. “You don’t want me to ask you for your decision right now, do you?”

“No.” She admits.

“Then go while you still have the chance. I’m sure you’ll be asked about my offer soon enough.”

Pride be damned, Byleth leaves without a second word. She retreats faster than she would have thought herself capable of, abandoning the lord’s presence in light of his generosity to flee.

It is then that Lady Catherine appears before her, asking for her to make a choice by the end of the day. Byleth knows that the deadline is looming, that she can’t flounder into a state of eternal indecision forever.

Yet how can she choose a house so easily when choosing one house means enduring potential threats from the others? All three of the lords had made it known that they wanted her. And, if she denied any one of them…well, all she could say was that she was afraid of the consequences to be…

* * *

And so now she sits, trapped in a bell tower and bemoaning her situation. Even as she nestles in straws of golden hay, seeking comfort from a nest made of fresh grass, her mind still wanders to thoughts of panic and paranoia.

Choosing Edelgard meant having Claude and Dimitri baring their weapons at her throat.

Choosing Dimitri meant having Claude and Edelgard plotting her inevitable demise.

Choosing Claude meant having Edelgard plot against her and it meant Dimitri would be bearing his lance against hers in battle.

She was not a fool: accepting one lord’s offer and denying the other two their wishes would lead to battles of conflict. The lord she chose would be exuberant, of course, as all three of the rulers-to-be were more than happy to seduce her to their sides. The other two lords, however, would doubtlessly work to fight against her, their loss of a skilled teacher only fueling their need to get rid of her. She was certain of that much. Those kids, while technically as harmless as ducklings in their youth, were heirs to much powerful forces. If she denied any one of them their desires, it was likely she’d find herself the scapegoat to their tantrums. 

Maybe they’d send assassins after her, maybe they’d try to use their political power to hunt down her father and his fellow mercenaries. Maybe they’d blackmail her into being the downfall of the house she’d chosen. That, too, was always an option.

Byleth runs her fingers through her hair, tugging and pulling at strands of teal as she ruminates on a decision. Edelgard and Dimitri and Claude all seemed like fine people – she _had_ enjoyed her time with them, after all – but it was the way they clung to her like a lifeline that had her nervous of the consequences of her choice.

“Yo.”

So enraptured is she in her fears that a voice that comes from above registers only as a passing sound. 

“Yo. Teacher.”

Then, the voice finally clicks in her head and she’s left scrambling from her place on the haystack to look around.

On her right, perched on a window frame of the bell tower left bereft of glass, sits Claude. The dark-skinned boy is sitting with ease, legs pulled up and back slumped against concrete as he gives her a pitying glance. 

Briefly, in the back of her head, she wonders how he got there without her knowing.

“Can’t make a decision after all?” He ventures.

Byleth shakes her head. “Tch.” Claude clicks his tongue. “I knew you were scared silly. I didn’t realize you were scared of us to the point of indecision.”

His gaze bores into hers and she realizes with a start that he can see straight through her. Huffing, she brings her legs to her chin and curls her hands around her ankles. “It’s not like I _like_ being threatened.”

“Threatened?” The boy tilts his head. “ _Them?_ Threaten _you_?”

“You make it sound like it’s not possible.”

“Oh no, it’s very possible. I just didn’t believe they were stupid enough to try.” Claude snickers before sobering up to hop off the window ledge. He kneels before her, reaching out a hand to her and grinning. “Rather, if you’re afraid of retaliation for making a choice...Well then, you have nothing to fear from me.”

She eyes his hand. “And why is that?”

He hums. “Frankly, I don’t care if you come to my house or not.” Claude retreats when he sees she won’t accept his hand, standing to his feet and putting his arms behind his head. “So, whether you choose me or not is none of my concern.”

“But didn’t you ask me to join you earlier?”

“I did.”

“So then, if it’s none of your concern, why bother?”

Claude gives her a look of raised eyebrows. “Because I’m obligated to.” He shrugs at her gaping mouth and huffs. “Look. If I _truly_ wanted you on my side there’s plenty more I could’ve done to convince you. Instead, I did so only to show off. After all, those two house leaders will only consider you most valuable if we _all_ fight over you. “

“You make it sound as if I’m some sort of prize to be won.”

“In a way, you are,” Claude gives her a cheeky grin, his amusement evident at her choice of words. “Though it might not look that way to you, those two house leaders are in desperate need of someone with your skills.”

“Didn’t seem like that to me.”

“Hence the reason why I said _it might not look that way to you_.” Claude rolls his eyes as she scowls at him and continues on. “I’ve known Dimitri and Edelgard for as long as I can remember. They may seem like cunning little brats but they mean well. Despite their antics towards you, they won’t lower themselves to hurting you if you refuse them.”

She looks at him. “You speak well of them for someone who’s supposed to be their rival.”

He smiles. It’s a sincere and happy smile. Byleth likes that smile. “We’re as much good friends as we are rivals.” Claude takes residence back on the windowsill, perching there with his feet planted on the ground beneath. “Regardless, just as I won’t hurt you for not choosing my house, so too will they. Dimitri and Edelgard are wonderful people once you know them. Choose their house and you’ll see that.”

Byleth grabs at a handful of straw and picks through the pieces. The sensation of golden stalks passing through her fingers keeps her occupied as she thinks of a response.

“I think that puts aside my fears,” she says after a moment, “but it still doesn’t help me decide between you three.”

“Well then,” Claude claps his hands together, “let’s start with this: Dimitri or Edelgard?”

Byleth peers up at him. “And what about yourself?”

“Consider me crossed out from the equation.”

“Okay. Why?”

“I admit you’re talented and my house would definitely benefit from that. However, I do believe you yourself are much more needed in the Blue Lions or the Black Eagles than in the Golden Deer. Therefore, to make the choice simpler for you, I’ve essentially narrowed down your options to the other two houses.”

It’s not a flat-out rejection. Still, she rolls with it.

“Alright. If what you say is true, why do Dimitri and Edelgard need me? Dimitri’s house is very talented on the battlefield. I could tell that much from sparring with their leader this morning. And Edelgard…well, she clearly has the cunning to run her house well. And I’ve seen her with an axe. She doesn’t need help from someone like me.”

The boy scowls at her. “Edelgard is good with an axe and smart in battle, but she lacks confidence in her decisions and doesn’t know a thing about training her classmates. Dimitri, on the other hand, is great at teamwork and rallying his troops but lacks knowledge on his own kingdom and is terrible at sticking to his studies.”

“You sound like you know them intimately.”

Claude flushes. “I said it before: I’ve known them since forever. You more or less learn a lot of things like this about the people you’ve known since you were a child.”

“So you say.” Byleth lets the bundle of hay fall loose from her hands and falls back atop it. “Still, that doesn’t really help me out any. They both seem like they have their flaws and strengths. If anything, it just makes it harder for me to choose between them.”

“Well, let’s put it like this. Which do you excel more at: teaching field strategies or teaching basic studies?”

“Neither. I’m not a teacher in the first place.”

“So you say. Yet, you commanded us in that battle against the bandits like you were one.” Claude’s eyes glint. “You really did amaze me, you know. Not many people can boss around the future leaders of the continent and leave the battlefield alive. Honestly, it’s quite a feat you’re still kicking.”

“Thanks…I think.”

“Not a problem,” Claude loops a finger in the air, humming to himself. “But back to the decision at hand. You’ve got to choose. If you don’t, I’m afraid you’ll have more to worry about than some teenagers wrecking your life. After all, the church is not full of patient people. If the house leaders won’t have your head on a stake for refusing their offer, than the church certainly will.”

She gulps and the twinkle in Claude’s eyes only makes her shrink further into the stack of hay.

“Don’t worry, teacher.” He says, clapping his hands together and beaming down at her. “Even if you make the wrong choice, I won’t hold it against you.”

He smiles but, much to her surprise, Byleth finds it to be a genuine smile. His green eyes sparkle with reassurance, soft and soothing as if to settle down the panic pounding in her chest.

For a moment, all she wants to do is be lost in that pool of consolation. Then, a voice calls from the depths of the bell tower’s staircase and both of them are left immediately startling.

“Claude!” Calls someone who sounds a lot like Dimitri. “Are you here?”

Claude sighs, shrugging as he cups his hands around his mouth and answers with: “Yeah, I’m here!”

“The ceremony will be starting soon!” Comes Edelgard’s voice. “Hurry it up or the teachers will scold you again!”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Just wait a sec, alright?”

A pause. Then: “Are you with someone?”

Byleth looks to Claude. He looks to her and holds a finger to his lips.

“Are you accusing me of something, Edelgard?” The black-haired boy shouts down the staircase. “Or are you jealous that I’m probably romancing some woman more beautiful than you?”

“I’m sorry, did I hear that right? Claude if you know what’s good for you…!”

Byleth hears rapid footsteps follow the girl’s words and Claude leaps forward to start descending down the stairs. He pauses on the first step, mouthing back to her “You have some time. Choose wisely, alright?” before continuing on his way.

Alone, Byleth is left to contemplate.

* * *

The ceremony for choosing a house occurs a few hours later and, sad to say, Byleth is nowhere near making a decision as she would like.

Even as Lady Catherine guides her onto the stage and sets her atop a podium, urging her to speak her choice, Byleth finds herself stunned. Before her, waiting with their backs straight and eyes full of expectations, are the three house leaders. Each and every one of them gazes at her with certainty, gazes alight with stars and wonder.

It’s under their watchful eyes that Byleth feels her mouth run dry. She peers at them each in turn and then focuses on two in particular.

She’s got to choose between Dimitri and Edelgard. Between the blond-haired prince and the white-haired princess.

Dimitri. Edelgard. Dimitri. Edelgard. _Dimitri. Edelgard._

 _Ah_ , maybe it’s just too much. She can’t choose between them.

Her gaze flicks to Claude for just a fraction of a second. The boy regards her coolly, tilting his head as if to question her sudden distraction. Then, he gives her a smile and a nod, seemingly reassuring the girl as he tilts his head towards the two leaders on either side of him.

In a moment made almost dream-like, Byleth speaks her decision.

“I choose the Golden Deer.”

* * *

Claude nearly chokes when he hears the name of his house pronounced out loud.

Before him, locking gazes with him like that of a lost duckling with no home to go to, is Byleth. She stands on the stage in front of him wringing her hands and looking rather flustered over her own proclamation. He jumps forward to reassure her, his own surprise fading away to irritation as he plasters on a smile and starts his show.

“I welcome your services, _Teach_ ,” he says, speaking the last word as a way to spite her. However, he’s left to narrow his eyes as the girl brightens, her fingers clasping his as he offers his hand to her.

“Thank you for your words,” she responds, her earlier skittishness replaced with something sincere. “I think I want to teach you and the others.”

He watches her, that smile of his still kept on his face as he bows. “On behalf of the Golden Deer, we welcome you.”

At once, Claude’s classmates leap up on the stage to join Byleth. They surround her like a flock of swans, paddling their way closer and closer until the poor girl spins with shyness. Claude watches her from a distance, lips curling just the slightest bit as he says: “Tch. So much for shooing you away.”

Byleth doesn’t hear his words. Nor does anyone else. Instead, they pass by on the wind, heard only by Seiros herself.

Claude returns to his teacher’s side, all grins and laughs as he joins in on the celebration. In one hand, he holds the mask he dons. In the other, he holds the one he does not. Left unaware of this precious fact, Byleth smiles at him.

“I hope you'll treat me well.”

“Yeah,” he says.

His mask smiles back at her.

**Author's Note:**

> So, one of the lines that Claude speaks in the Japanese version of the game goes something a little like: “So you’re interested in my house? Ah…well...you might want to reconsider that choice of yours.” (Not an exact translation but close enough from what I remember of it)
> 
> This quote - when coupled with what we know of Claude's personality - makes me speculate that, while Claude recognizes the protagonist's talent, he also wants to push the protagonist away from him. Not only that but it's been heavily implied that Claude has trust issues, leading me to further believe that his relationship with the protagonist will start off rocky - with Claude distrusting the protagonist but acting otherwise and with the protagonist/Byleth believing in him and missing all the nuances of his true personality in the process. In other words: Claude might be the only lord of the three who doesn't trust the protagonist off the bat and who acts upon that distrust in small but unique ways such as what I've done above.
> 
> Regardless, all I know is that I can't wait to join his house and watch him warm up to Byleth. Can't wait to see him get close to the protagonist only to snap like Edelgard and Dimitri inevitably do :>


End file.
